The Roman Traitor Volume Ii Part 40

"Has not survived the strife. None of the traitors have survived it,"

replied Petreius. "But how he fell, or where, as yet we know not."

"Paullus hath slain him! my own, my n.o.ble Paullus."

"I think so, Julia," answered the general.

"I know it," she said slowly-"but what availeth that to me-to me who had rather hear one accent of his n.o.ble voice, meet one glance of his glorious eye-alas! alas! my Paullus! my Lord! my Life! But I will not survive him!"

"Hold, Julia, hold! I would not nurse you to false hopes, but he may yet be living; many are wounded doubtless, who shall be saved to-morrow-"

"To-morrow?" she exclaimed, a gleam of hope bursting upon her soul, like the dayspring. "Why not to-night?-Petreius, I say, why not to-night?"

"It is impossible. The men are all worn out with wounds and weariness, and must have daylight to the task. Dear girl, it is impossible."

"I will go forth myself, alone, unaided, I will save him."

"You must not, Julia."

"Who shall prevent me? Who dare to part a betrothed maiden from her true lover,-true, alas! in death! in death!"

"I will," replied Petreius firmly. "You know not the perils of such a night as this. The gaunt wolves from the Appennines; the foul and carrion vultures; the plundering disbanded soldiers; the horrid uns.e.xed women, who roam the field of blood more cruel than the famished wolf, more sordid than the loathsome vulture. I will prevent you, Julia. But with the earliest dawn to-morrow I will myself go with you. Fare you well, try to sleep, and hope, hope for the best, poor Julia."

And with a deep sigh at the futility of his consolation, the n.o.ble Roman left the tent, giving strict orders to the peasant girls who had been pressed into her service, and to Arvina's freedmen who were devoted to her, on no account to suffer her to leave the camp that night, and even, if need were, to use force to prevent her.

Meanwhile the frost wind had risen cold and cutting over the field of blood. Its chilly freshness, checking the flow of blood and fanning the brow of many a maimed and gory wretch, awoke him to so much at least of life, as to be conscious of his tortures; and loud groans, and piercing shrieks, and agonizing cries for water might beheard now on all sides, where, before the wind rose, there had been but feeble wailings and half-unconscious lamentations.

Then came a long wild howl from the mountain side, another, and another, and then the snarling fiendish cry of the fell wolf-pack.

G.o.ds! what a scream of horrid terror rose from each helpless sufferer, unanimous, as that accursed sound fell on their palsied ears, and tortured them back into life.

But cries were of no avail, nor prayers, nor struggles, nor even the shouts, and trumpet blasts, and torches of the legionaries from the camp, who hoped thus to scare the bloodthirsty brutes from their living prey, of friend and foe, real comrade and false traitor.

It was all vain, and ere long to the long-drawn howls and fierce snarls of the hungry wolves, battening upon their horrid meal, were added the flapping wings and croaking cries of innumerable night birds flocking to the carnage; and these were blended still with the sharp outcries, and faint murmurs, that told how keener than the mortal sword were the beak and talon, the fang and claw, of the wild beast and the carrion fowl.

Such, conquerors, such a thing is glory!

That frost wind, among others awakened Paullus to new life, and new horrors. Though gashed and weak from loss of blood, none of his wounds were mortal, and yet he felt that, unaided, he must die there, past doubt, even if spared by the rending beak, and lacerating talon.

As he raised himself slowly to a sitting posture, and was feeling about for his sword, which had fallen from his grasp as he fainted, he heard his name called feebly by some one near him.

"Who calls Arvina?" he replied faintly. "I am here."

"I, Caius Pansa," answered the voice; it was that of the old legionary horseman, who had predicted so confidently the fall of Catiline by the hand of Paullus. "I feared thou wert dead."

"We shall both be dead soon, Caius Pansa," replied the young man. "Hark!

to those wolves! It makes my very flesh creep on my bones! They are sweeping this way, too."

"No! no! cheer up, brave heart," replied the veteran. "We will not die this bout. By Hercules! only crawl to me, thou. My thigh is broken, and I cannot stir. I have wine here; a warming draught, in a good leather bottle. Trust to old Caius for campaigning! I have life enough in me to beat off these howling furies. Come, Paullus; come, brave youth. We will share the wine! You shall not die this time. I saw you kill that dog-I knew that you would kill him. Courage, I say, crawl hitherward."

Cheered by the friendly voice, the wounded youth crept feebly and with sore anguish to the old trooper's side, and shared his generously proffered cup; and, animated by the draught, and deriving fresh courage from his praises, endured the horrors of that awful night, until the day breaking in the east scared the foul beasts and night birds to their obscene haunts in the mountain peaks and caverns.

Many times the gory wings had flapped nigh to them, and the fierce wolf-howls had come within ten feet of where they sat, half rec.u.mbent, propped on a pile of dead, but still their united voices and the defensive show which they a.s.sumed drove off the savages, and now daylight and new hopes dawned together, and rescue was at hand and certain.

Already the Roman trumpets were heard sounding, and the shouts of the soldiers, as they discerned some friend living, or some leader of the rebels dead or dying, came swelling to their ears, laden with rapture, on the fresh morning air.

At this moment, some groans broke out, so terribly acute and bitter, from a heap of gory carca.s.ses hard by Arvina and the old trooper, that after calling several times in vain to enquire who was there, the veteran said,

"It were pity, Paullus, that after living out such a melee as this, and such a night as the last, any poor fellow should die now. Cannot you crawl to him with the flask, and moisten his lips; try, my Paullus."

"I will try, Caius, but I am stiffer than I was, and my hurts shoot terribly, but I will try."

And with the word, holding the leathern bottle in his teeth, he crawled painfully and wearily toward the spot whence the sounds proceeded; but ere he reached it, creeping over the dead, he came suddenly on what seemed a corpse so hideous, and so truculently savage, so horribly distorted in the death pang, that involuntarily he paused to gaze upon it.

It was Catiline, although at first he recognised him not, so frightfully was his face altered, his nether lip literally gnawed half-through, by his own teeth in the death agony, and his other features lacerated by the beak and talons of some half-gorged vulture.

But, while he gazed, the heavy lids rose, and the glazed eyes stared upon him in ghastly recognition; Paullus knew him at the same moment, and started back a little, drawing a deep breath through his set teeth, and murmuring, "Ah! Catiline!"

The dying traitor's lips were convulsed by a fearful sardonic grin, and he strove hard to speak, but the words rattled in his throat inarticulate, and a sharp ruckling groan was the only sound that he uttered.

But with a mighty effort he writhed himself up from the ground, and drove his sword, which he still clasped in his convulsed fingers, by a last desperate exertion through Paullus' ma.s.sive corslet, and deep into his bosom.

With a sharp cry the youth fell p.r.o.ne, and after two or three struggles to arise, lay on his face motionless, and senseless.

Catiline dropped back with a fiendish grin, and eyes rolling in a strange mixed expression of agony and triumph; while old Pansa, after crying, twice or thrice, "Paullus, ho! n.o.ble Paullus!" exclaimed mournfully, "Alas! He is dead! He is dead! And I it is who have slain him."

Within half an hour, Petreius and his guards with several mounted officers, and a lady upon a white palfrey, came riding slowly toward the fatal spot, pausing from time to time to examine every pile of carca.s.ses, and after causing his men to dismount and turn over the bodies, in the hope of finding him they sought.

Their search had hitherto been fruitless, and unrewarded even by the discovery of any wounded friends or comrades, for this was the place in which the battle had been most desperately contested, and few had fallen here but to die almost on the instant.

But now a weak voice was heard calling to the general.

"Petreius, he is here! here! He is here, n.o.ble Petreius!"

"The immortal G.o.ds be praised!" cried Julia, interpreting the casual words at once to signify Arvina, and giving her palfrey the rein, she gallopped to the spot, followed by Petreius shaking his head gloomily; for he was not so deceived.

"Who? who is here?" exclaimed the general. "Ha! my stout Pansa, right glad am I to find you living. See to him, quickly, Postumus, and Capito. But whom do you mean? Who is here?"

"Catiline! Paullus Arvina slew him!"-

"By all the G.o.ds!" exclaimed Petreius, leaping down from his horse and gazing at the hideous mutilated carcase, still breathing a little, and retaining in its face that ferocity of soul which had distinguished it while living!

But swifter yet than he, Julia sprang from her saddle, and rushed heedless and unconscious, through pools of blood, ancle deep, treading on human corpses, in her wild haste, and cast herself down on the well known armor, the casque crested and the cloak embroidered by her own delicate hands, which could alone be distinguished of her lover's prostrate form.

"Aye! me! aye me! dead! dead! my own Arvina!"

"Alas! alas!"-cried Petreius, "Raise her up; raise them both, this is most lamentable!"-

"Never heed me!" said the veteran Pansa, eagerly, to the officers who were busy raising him from the ground. "Help the poor girl! Help the brave youth! He may be living yet, though I fear me not. It is my fault, alas!

that he is not living now!"